


A Holiday in the Life of a Hellhound

by RefrainGirl



Series: Crowley & Dog: Adventures after Armageddon't [1]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: #bookomensweek, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley in Love (Good Omens), Aziraphale is Not Innocent (Good Omens), Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Dog is hungry, Domestic Fluff, Don't copy to another site, Family Dinners, Fluff and Humor, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Married Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Mentioned Adam Young (Good Omens), Minor Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, New Year's Fluff, New Year's Resolutions, Originally Posted on Tumblr, POV Dog (Good Omens), Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens), literally all he wants is new year's food
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:06:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22359217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RefrainGirl/pseuds/RefrainGirl
Summary: Written for @petimetrek's Book Omens Week on Tumblr.Dog hadn’t thought much about his own New Year’s resolutions before. Normally he was a live-in-the-moment type, but not today. For once he actually had a goal in his sights, an idea in his heart that was noble and just. If he didn’t accomplish it tonight, then he would be failing more than just himself.It's New Year's at the Young house, and Dog is intent on getting a taste of the glorious banquet he has been denied for so long. He's even come up with a plan, sort of, and believe it or not... it actually works. Mostly because Crowley is soft.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley & Dog (Good Omens)
Series: Crowley & Dog: Adventures after Armageddon't [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1670659
Comments: 24
Kudos: 69
Collections: Ixnael’s Recommendations, Ixnael’s SFW corner





	A Holiday in the Life of a Hellhound

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to write a story from Dog's POV for a long time now, so I am super glad that Book Omens Week, this awesome event, came along and poured the fuel that I needed onto my fire! Also, I'm dedicating this story to my dog Ace, who is by far the cutest helly hellhound that anyone could ask for and also my main inspiration behind how I write Dog<3

“Could someone pass the potato salad, please?”  
  
Dog sulked as only a neglected dog could, watching as yet another bowl of deliciousness got passed down the length of the Young’s table. Everything was starting to wind down now, most of the people present reaching for their wine (or grape juice if you were Adam) as their merry group settled down into long conversations about plans for the coming year. Dog could do nothing but sit moodily on his bed, only half-listening to their discussions. He wasn’t knowledgeable enough to understand why Newt’s hope of overcoming his technological curse in the new year was going to be an ambitious undertaking, so he didn’t think it necessary to bark in his two cents on the matter. Besides, Anathema was apparently willing to support Newt while she pursued her dream of finding a fairy ring somewhere in the verdant forests of Tadfield. Dog wasn’t too worried about the man, since he was being looked after by a pretty, responsible witch who loved him as much as Adam loved Dog. It was sweet, he supposed, in the same way that he had brought a nice, dirt-laden dog bone to that one lady dog down the street. She had accepted it, but not him. That bit hadn’t been as sweet. Love was a difficult dance to follow, as it turned out.

Dog hadn’t thought much about his own New Year’s resolutions before. Normally he was a live-in-the-moment type, but not today. For once he actually had a goal in his sights, an idea in his heart that was noble and just. If he didn’t accomplish it tonight, then he would be failing more than just himself.

That was why his mood was worsening with every bite that was being taken. The last bits of dinner were starting to be divided amongst everyone but Dog, and he was on the verge of missing out entirely. Again. He tried not to drool as empty plates began to be carried into the kitchen, the scent of absent food still clinging to the porcelain. Nobody ever passed _him_ any potato salad, not even when he barked nicely. The last time he’d asked for anything, Mrs. Young had told him to stop ‘begging’ and sent him off to Adam’s room, closing the door behind him for the rest of the dinner. He had only been let out once all the food had been eaten, which was completely unfair. Everyone else had asked, and gotten a nice helping of whatever it was that they wanted. Dog had done the same, and it was classified as begging.

A seriously wounded look took over his face, and he snorted. Sometimes it was hard, being a little hellhound in a human world.

This year was going to be different, though. Dog could feel it in the air. He had been thinking about the New Year’s feast for months, and he had come up with a plan that was guaranteed to work. It just had to, because if it didn’t then that meant that dogs would never be allowed to eat human food again. If he couldn’t manage to get a taste of turkey this year, if his efforts turned out to be fruitless and, even worse than that, if the humans found out about his botched attempts to eat what had long been classified for dogs as forbidden fare, then it would mean the end. Word would inevitably spread, and all dogs - or at least the few living in Tadfield - would suffer from countless misguided assumptions. Dogkind would never be able to place their eyes on anything other than dry, crunchy kibbles ever again. He was holding too many hopes in his paws to accept failure as an option.

After a while the bowl made it to where Anathema sat. Dog drooled a little as she took a few scoops of potato salad onto her dish, handing the rest over to the individual who had originally asked for it. “Here you are, Mr. Fell,” she said, smiling.

Mr. Fell, or Aziraphale as Dog had heard Crowley call him (usually after a long snogging that he had accidentally padded in on), smiled back at her, accepting the offering with a kind nod. “Why thank you, dear. It smells absolutely scrumptious,” he said, his eyes lifting to meet those of Mrs. Young. His smile grew even wider with appreciation. “I must tell you, I’ve been waiting all year for another sampling of your motherly cookery, Mrs. Young. After last year’s Christmas dinner, I simply couldn’t get it out of my mind.”

Dog cocked his head, noticing how easily she laughed and waved off his words. The only other time he had seen her face look like that was when Mr. Young tried to amuse her with what were supposed to be jokes. His master called them ‘dad jokes’, but the meaning of that statement was lost on Dog. “You do flatter me, Mr. Fell,” she gushed, earning herself a bit of an eye roll from Mr. Young. “I haven’t done anything all that special. Oh, and please, call me Deirdre. You and your husband have visited us so much lately, it feels strange to be so formal about it.”

“Of course. Likewise, Aziraphale will do just fine.”

“My, that’s a beautiful name! So unique! Bit of a mouthful though. Are you averse to nicknames?”

Beside him, Crowley sunk deeper into his chair. “Other than angel? Abso-bloody-lutely,” Dog heard him mumble under his breath.

Aziraphale tossed him a sideways glance, frowning slightly. “What was that, dearest?” he asked, although there really wasn’t any reason to. The pointed look alone suggested that he had heard, and wasn’t thrilled by his husband’s attitude. “Would you care to repeat what you said?”

“Mmh.” Crowley shrugged his shoulders, taking some time to put on an innocent expression. Both of his hands shifted uncomfortably in his pants pockets. “Nah. ‘S nothin’.”

With a small shake of the head, Aziraphale turned his attention back to the question at hand. Try as he might, he couldn’t stop himself from cringing just a little when he answered. “I’d prefer not, if you don’t mind.”

Mrs. Young simply nodded in understanding, her smile crinkling her eyes. “Certainly not! Aziraphale it is, then.”

The angel was giving himself quite large portions, the sheer size of each spoonful making Dog fear that there would be nothing left for him by the time he put his plan in motion. This was it, his best chance, now or never. He was positively itching to test out the tactic he had come up with. A brief moment passed by as he stole a careful glance at Mr. and Mrs. Young, making sure they were both occupied before padding over to the table and nosing his way underneath the tablecloth. It was long enough to hide most of his body, but if anyone had been paying proper attention they might have seen a set of tiny paws skittering purposefully across the tile floor. He was a hellhound on a mission and even though Adam was the first to discover him, bending down to grin over at Dog from his place at the table, he was not to be deterred from his objective. He trusted his master, believing that he would not reveal his presence to the authorities unless it became absolutely necessary.

The approach he had settled on was stealthy, fast and soft, like a phantom. If no one else aside from Adam (who always seemed to sense the kind of mischief Dog was planning) knew that he was down there yet, then it was a good sign. He must be doing things right.

His nose stooped just short of where he thought Aziraphale’s feet should be, sniffing carefully to make sure he had picked the right placement. Yeah, this was the aroma of a celestial angel, all right. Dog could smell holy energy just as naturally as he could smell demonic energy, but there was no need to be afraid of it in this setting. He had seen a lot of Aziraphale over the months after Armageddidn’t and had learned that the angel was a perfectly pleasant being to spend time with. Those soft hands were especially skilled at petting, although he still couldn’t figure out why. Whenever he skimmed his fingers through Dog’s coarse fur, Dog always felt like curling up and going to sleep. It was oddly relaxing, somehow. Not even Adam could make him feel that drowsy.

But he hadn’t come all this way to pester people for attention - not that kind of attention, at least.

It would be a real challenge to convince Aziraphale to share, which was why Dog hadn’t remotely thought about asking him. No, he was simply putting himself in a position to aim his inquiries towards the prime target, who was being handed the salad bowl right this second.

“Crowley? Would you like some potato salad?” the angel asked. “I think this is the best I’ve ever tasted! You should try some before it’s gone.”

“Can’t I just have a bite from yours?”

“Well, I suppose you could, but you do have your own dish for a reason, love.” And then there came a quiet whisper. “I know you aren’t starving, Crowley, but you’ve hardly touched anything all night, other than the wine.”

Crowley huffed indignantly. “Can’t help that, ‘s really good wine,” he said, and Dog heard him take another loud sip for effect.

“The point I’m trying to make, dear boy, is that we need to be polite. Deirdre made all of this for us, so we should at least give her the courtesy of enjoying it, hm? Could you please indulge a bit, for me?”

A brief silence followed, as if Crowley were truly considering ignoring his husband’s plea, and then he let out a heavy sigh. Dog had come to recognize them as I’m-about-to-give-in-and-I-don’t-like-it sighs. “Fine, sure. Gimme the bowl, then,” he relented, and Dog decided to slowly inch his way closer while they were distracted by food that was soon to be his. “Oi, I can scoop my own! ‘M not an invalid, angel! … Whatever. Just a li’l bit, I don’t need lots.”

Obviously Crowley was the best one to ask for food out of all the dinner guests. In fact, he was probably the only one Dog could ask and actually hope to get something out of it. He was a demon. Food wasn’t a requirement for him, and although he didn’t seem entirely comfortable around Dog, he also didn’t hate him either. The prospect of sharing seemed a lot more likely to happen with Crowley than with anybody else here, including Aziraphale, which was kind of unexpected but Dog didn’t really care as long as he got some juicy tidbits.

Besides, he really liked Crowley. He was an amusing person, and came up with a lot of interesting things to do. Most of their relationship involved a bunch of awkward stare-downs that ended with Crowley either sticking his forked tongue out at him or hissing, “What do you want? I’ve nothing for you, so go on. Get!” Even those moments were entertaining for Dog, especially when he managed to jump up at the last second to lick Crowley’s face, making him sputter and gag and complain in a terribly loud, falsely annoyed voice that he was ‘such a bad dog’.

Crowley did devote a lot of energy towards his act, pretending to be cool and aloof around everyone he met, but Dog had discovered that it was just that, an act, a long time ago - during last year’s Christmas get-together, in fact. Adam had been forced to go inside to catch up on homework that he’d put off till the last minute, leaving Dog with no one to play with, and every dog knows that playing with toys all by yourself is absolutely no fun at all. It’s actually rather sad.

All of the other humans were busy preparing for dinner, even Aziraphale had decided to pitch in. Everyone was preoccupied, except for a certain demon. For some reason he had been leaning against the wall outside, the collar of his jacket turned up around his neck, observing each snowflake as it fell. Although he was shivering a bit, even while hiding underneath all those layers, a warm look of peace was painting his features in brighter tones than Dog had ever seen before.

_Standing outside in snow that brushed against the fur of his belly, Dog took a chance and brought his frisbee over to Crowley, dropping it at his feet. He made a show of sprinting off a few feet, then came trotting back, tail wagging._

_“You wanna play, huh?” he asked, a frown creasing his forehead. After checking to see if anyone was lurking nearby, he crouched down to Dog’s level, tilting the shades on his nose to reveal a sliver of gold._

_Dog stared right back into those serpentine eyes as they closely examined his favorite toy. The look was one of total sincerity. There was no mockery to be found, which made Dog feel even better about taking this to Crowley. Not a lot of people took his playtime seriously other than his master. “I dunno. Don’t really feel like it,” he said at last, pushing the glasses back up onto his face._

_Aw. It’s not like your doing anything important right now, anyway, Dog whined, hopefully pleading his case as his paw came to rest on top of a skinny knee. Once there, he whined again, louder. Please, Crowley friend? Please? He tried his best to make his doggy eyes sparkle._

_Asking nicely always worked like magic, or at least it did on Crowley. “Oh come on,” he groaned, releasing another of those heavy sighs that proved Dog had convinced him. His hand hesitated in its descent before gently mussing up the fur on top of Dog’s head. “Don’t ambush me with that kinda face. ‘S not fair at all. Then again, you_ are _a hellhound behind all that cute. Makes sense, in our nature to be tricky, eh?”_

 _He stared out at the snowy backdrop of Tadfield, glittering in the faded light that filtered through the windows of the Young’s house. For a while, he looked thoughtful, contemplative. Then a small smile slipped onto his face. “Tell you what…” he muttered in a conspiratorial manner. “Don’t breathe a word of this to anyone, and I might just throw the stupid thing once._ Once _, and that’s all. Got it?”_

Dog had eagerly nodded his agreement, aware that a single throw was better than nothing at all. He needn’t have worried. ‘Once and that’s all’ had miraculously turned into hours of joy before they succumbed to the overwhelming desire to head in and warm up. Of course, Aziraphale had instantly noticed Crowley’s attempts to slink through the doorway with Dog held close in his arms, both of them shivering like they had just escaped from being trapped in the newest Ice Age; and naturally, he was full of questions about the matter. Crowley would never admit to doing anything frivolous out loud, but Dog had felt his happiness all the same. He was convinced that the angel had felt it too, what with the fondness of that teasing grin glowing all across his face.

Remembering the good old times made Dog feel even more assured that his plan this year would work. He stepped boldly forwards, jumping up to place his head in Crowley’s lap with a huff, and the simple action made the demon jerk with surprise. He lifted the tablecloth up just enough to frown down at Dog. “Phew, ‘s just you,” he sighed in relief, bringing a hand to his chest. “I thought you were - ”

He immediately cut himself off, his eyes briefly moving over to examine Aziraphale’s profile. The angel was engaged in a lively chat with Anathema about old books and prophesies, which meant that he would be far too absorbed in their conversation to notice if Dog was asking his significant other for food. He couldn’t have timed this better if he’d tried.

Crowley nodded to himself, returning his focus to the creature that was nearly climbing into his seat. “If he sees how slow I’m going, I’ll be in big trouble,” he whispered, tone serious and foreboding. But before long a huge grin swept across his face, swapping out the ominous feeling with a bout of humorous devilment that Dog had come to admire in Crowley. “So what’s this about? Beggin’ for food? You’ve got guts, but I don’t think the angel is gonna give you anything.”

Yes, he knew that already. There was no point in trying to fight a losing battle, let alone win one. Dog nosed intently at his hand, communicating this with a sarcastic grumble and intense eyes that made Crowley chuckle. “Oh, I get it now. You think I’m soft enough to let some scraps slip.” He crossed his arms, smirking evilly. “Heh. Gimme one good reason why I should.”

Every muscle in Dog’s body went impossibly tense at the words. That made Crowley stare down at him in confusion, but the reaction didn’t register in his mind. All Dog could think was that the time had come. It was upon him, and he’d be damned (sort of already was, but he paid that thought no heed) if he messed up during the most crucial culmination of his plan. All those days of practice and patience had led to the frame of time that he was about to step into. This was it. He was vibrating from the implication of what his achievement tonight could mean. Dogs all over Tadfield would be howling his name to the skies in victory. He’d be a hero, a local legend among dogkind. Finally, he could set his ultimate plan into motion.

Dog liked to think that he had mastered the art of adorable, puppy dog eyes, but this was the first time he had ever used it against a demon. So he gave it his all, employing his most unbeatable, adoring gaze onto Crowley.

The response he got wasn’t exactly what he had been hoping for. Crowley didn’t cave like all the humans he had done that to. He just blinked at him, chuckling in awe. “Never thought I’d meet a hellhound that could do that, much less pull it off,” he murmured, rubbing at the back of his neck. “This is weird. I dunno how to react to you.”

Dog whimpered quietly, feeling a bit discouraged but far from wanting to give up. He pondered his next move, and decided to step it up by licking Crowley’s hand. The key was not to do it a lot. People ended up getting grossed out if you licked them a thousand times, unless you were the kind who lived for that kind of thing. Dog had found that most humans enjoyed a few licks here and there rather than enduring an onslaught of tongue-wagging. Oftentimes he had earned himself a good petting just from holding himself back a bit.

After a minute Crowley tugged his hand away, snickering from the ticklish sensation. “Wow. You’re really dedicated to your purpose, huh?”

He seemed suitably impressed with Dog and glanced over to check on his husband, who was still happily chatting up Anathema. They were laughing giddily, and perhaps more than a little tipsily, over the fact that Agnes Nutter had written a second book of prophesies. Aziraphale asked if he could borrow it sometime, only for the witch to turn horribly pale and mention in a weak mumble that the last surviving copy had been… not quite accidentally burned in a fire. Dog covered up his muzzle with both paws and whined. Even he knew that couldn’t possibly end well.

Crowley seemed to know what Dog was doing even without looking at him. “Yeah… That was a bad move,” he agreed. A wave of pure horror flickered across that angelic face, and the sight of it made Crowley grimace. Quietly, he scooted his chair over the tiniest amount. “I, er… No, I can’t do that. Aziraphale wouldn’t be happy ‘bout it. He’s already goin’ through enough, don’t you think?”

Dog pawed harder at his leg, expressing the importance of his mission through a series of grumbling whines. He could see it starting to work, but Crowley bit his lip and leaned his chin on his hand to avoid looking directly at him. “Ugh. Look, it’s not that easy,” he hissed, waving his free hand to try to shoo Dog away. “Mrs. Young - er, Deirdre - made this ‘specially for us, and I know the angel’d be miffed if he caught me handing parts of her cooking off to the family pooch! So go ask someone else! Let Adam feed you all the veggies you want! ‘M sure he’d love to do that! What self-respecting kid wouldn’t?”

That was the problem. Dog didn’t _want_ to eat the stuff that nobody else wanted! He was there for the meat, the potatoes, the gravy! A critter of his persuasion needed something more flavorful so he could actually enjoy what he was eating. Literally anything tasted better than broccoli or lentils. Plus, if he just settled for the leftovers that people didn’t like to eat, then his legend would die unspoken! A dog who ate vegetables… what pride could he hold in that!? Maybe it said something about his strength of will. That hadn’t been what he was aiming for with this plan, however.

Dog peered up at him without moving his head, blinking back his sadness. He wasn’t keeping his disappointment much of a secret with the way he sat, staring dejectedly down at the floor, but even if he had Crowley probably would’ve been able to follow his line of thinking, somehow.

He crossed his arms, presumably to prevent himself from reaching down to comfort the miserable creature. “Sss… Someone’s sake, fine, _fine_! Okay, I’ll let you have some food - but if anybody catches me, then I’m blaming you all the way! I’ll tell ‘em that you stole it right off my plate when I wasn’t looking!” His expression softened just a touch. “Deal?”

Dog was fine with that. Bartering with Crowley wasn’t anything new. The demon loved to make little compromises with him, to make it seem like he wasn’t giving in to flights of fancy. If someone saw him petting Dog, then he would gently nudge him away with his foot, claiming that the ‘damn creature had tracked mud on his pants again’. If he was observed carrying Dog around, Crowley would simply explain that ‘he was humping R.P. Tyler’s poodle again, so I had to pry the bugger off’. That excuse was a bit more disagreeable, not to mention disreputable, and he always made sure Crowley knew it by growling at him.

Still though, Dog couldn’t fault him for coming up with stories. He understood what it was like. The cats of Tadfield made him feel similarly, after all. They were never scared of him, and loved to swat at his nose for all his attempts at instilling fear. If he could just figure out a way to lie to them to make things work properly, then he would. But cats were… difficult for hellhounds to get on with. They never believed a word he yipped anyway.

He watched with baited breath as Crowley peered cautiously around the table. Nobody seemed to be paying him any mind, and nobody had yet noticed Dog’s absence from his little corner bed that was set up against the far wall. That was incredibly lucky, but he wasn’t sure how much longer his luck would hold out. Crowley would have to move quickly. Dog had nothing to do other than pace around in nervous circles as he waited for the signal. He had no clue what it was supposed to look like, but he was sure he’d find out soon.

Once he was certain that there were no gazes lingering on him, Crowley scooped up a decent-sized forkful of stuffing. He brought it up to his mouth and paused. Dog’s guess was that he would tip the fork and let everything slide onto the floor if the coast was clear. For whatever reason he hesitated, eyes darting down to the little creature sitting patiently under the table. Dog licked his lips, giving him an encouraging nod. Don’t back out on me now, Crowley friend, he snuffled.

The demon stared down at him, a bemused look in his eyes. “Why’re you so expressive?” he mumbled, allowing his hand to wobble, and the tiniest crumb fell to his feet. More was going to come, so Dog didn’t break his gaze away. He was so close, so very close to having his stuffing and eating it too…

Suddenly he saw the body next to Crowley lean closer. “What’s wrong, dear?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley’s entire body stiffened, as if he had been thrown into the prison guard’s spotlight. “You haven’t touched your food at all,” the angel continued, and Dog saw him move his hand over to rest on his husband’s knee.

Oh. So that’s what he was talking about earlier.

“W-well, ‘m not all that hungry, angel.” He let out a quiet, anxious chuckle. “You know me. Never was much of an eater…”

The angel’s eyes seemed to reflect both a slight admonishment and understanding at the same time. “What a shame. Deirdre’s cooking is beyond compare,” he said. He motioned towards the plate with a small smile. “If you like, I could help you finish it off. It would be too much of a waste to throw such delicacies away, don’t you agree?”

Dog shook his head, silently pleading for Crowley to deny him access. The demon’s eyes narrowed at him, but he made no other move to acknowledge his presence. “Ah, yeah, um. Y’know, I think I’ll be fine,” he said, turning to shrug at Aziraphale. “Don’t wanna be rude after they invited us over ‘n all. Like you said, ‘s polite to eat what they made, right? I’ll just, er...”

This seemed to be the right answer. Dog cocked his head, watching in confusion as the angel’s hand squeezed at Crowley’s thigh. “You’re so considerate, dear.”

The food that had been sitting on his fork tumbled to the floor at last, and Dog beamed, wasting no time in gobbling it down. “Ngk. Considerate, my arse,” he stammered, pushing Aziraphale’s hand urgently away. “You are so full of it, angel.”

The texture of the stuffing was everything that Dog had imagined it would be. Soft warm and yummy. He was in a bit of shock, to be honest. After all his time plotting, he couldn’t believe that his plan had gone ahead without a hitch. Okay, almost without a hitch. He was satisfied, and was willing to consider tonight a glorious success. But things were about to get so much better than he could have ever dreamed.

Crowley grabbed his plate, slipping it under the tablecloth and spilling the contents onto the floor in one smooth motion. Dog wasn’t limited to stuffing anymore - he had turkey, potatoes, gravy, and of course, potato salad. His eyes rounded out at the mixture of smells assailing his nostrils, and his questioning look was met with a sly wink.

“Don’t say I never do nothing for you,” Crowley whispered, bringing his head back above the table to exclaim, “Boy, that was some damn good food! Time for bed!”

**Author's Note:**

> Come and say hi on Tumblr!
> 
> You can find me at my main blog [@refraingirl](https://refraingirl.tumblr.com/) or at my writing blog [@refraingirl-the-writer](https://refraingirl-the-writer.tumblr.com/)!


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